The Economics of the Heart

By Pamela Hartigan, Photos by Armando Waak/PAHO

Seemingly lost in time, Versalles is a place where a sense of genuine well-being pervades the air. Beneath its simplicity and unpretentiousness, however, beats the heart of a forward-looking community as committed to social change as it is to preserving its serenity and close-knit identity.

From the capital of Bogotá, it's a 30-minute flight to the town of Pereira, then from there a rough three-hour Jeep ride. The last hour is mostly unpaved road winding up the side of a mountain. It is a world unto itself, for reasons that slowly reveal themselves.

Upon arrival, those in need of lodging go directly to the only place in town, the Hotel Turista. "This establishment is a non-profit organization," reads a sign hanging over the doorway. It usually elicits an obvious question: how can a hotel be non-profit?

"It's owned and run by the community," a hotel staffer will reply politely.

Saint Nicholas Hospital stands on another corner, next to a sign proudly stating "We Like People." Inside, there are people milling about, but no patients. Dr. Henry Valencia, the hospital's head, explains: "We use the hospital as a community center of sorts. The hospital goes out to the community. House calls are the norm, and prevention and promotion the rule."

Henry's wife, meanwhile, can be heard in the kitchen, orchestrating the evening's menu. What followed was far from being standard-issue hospital food; instead the table is set for a simple but savory meal of homemade vegetable soup, brown rice, fresh greens, broiled chicken, and wine. Afterward, dessert is served at the Valencia household nearby. Nurses, doctors, social workers, and local troubadours soon begin pouring into the tiny living room. For several hours, the strains of familiar old boleros, cumbias, and rancheras fill the air, punctuated by soulful guitar chords.

Six years ago, life in Versalles was different. Political violence, driven by drug trafficking, was pervasive. Coffee was the main source of legitimate income. When its price fell on the international market, people were devastated. They had forgotten how to make any other kind of living besides growing coffee. As a result, many fled in search of other opportunities.

Claudio de Jesús, the town's boyish-looking mayor, puzzled with Henry and other Versalles veterans over what might be done. Town meetings were held, and the community conducted a study of the health and social situation of Versalles and surrounding areas. The results provided them with the tools to build a new vision, one that was cemented by a profound respect for the human spirit.

Hypertension and Unemployment

The study showed that the number one killer was violence. Heading the list of potential killers was hypertension, the result of an unbalanced diet high on pork and almost devoid of green leafy vegetables. Unemployment had skyrocketed, and living conditions for most were precarious. Many men had abandoned their women and children in search of work in the city, any city, leaving the family to fend for itself.

The community decided its problems couldn't be solved by separating the components of human development. The core issue was quickly identified: no market base and no reliable sources of income. Below the surface, though, lay a more worrisome reality: people felt helpless.

The town elected a committee which devised a four-pronged approach focusing on health promotion, education, agrarian reform, and sociocultural development. Different sectors, yes, but over time their work became seamless.

Young and old alike were nudged to contribute and commit. Adolescents and octogenarians recognized their disparate starting points. The negotiation process began, and a consensus developed through an overriding sense of solidarity.

Hypertension rates soon began to drop. The health sector sponsored a public screening and came up with the idea that at-risk individuals form their own self-help group.

Far from being forgotten, senior citizens are valued members of Versalles' society. They frequently gather to play music and discuss events of the day, a tradition that keeps the mind and spirit agile.

"The Hypertensives," as they call themselves, are today routinely monitored and advised on diet matters, but rarely are they spotted at the hospital--unless, of course, it's for their exercise class, or the locale is designated the starting point for their long walks together, or maybe to satisfy that irrepressible need to catch up on the latest gossip.

The elderly called their group "The Senior Citizens" and opened their own restaurant, "El Rincón de los Abuelos" (The Grandparents' Corner). Other income-generating projects included raising rabbits, then guinea pigs, the latter a novelty to Versalles. Today the restaurant makes a healthy profit, the rabbit industry is taking off, and the guinea pigs, if themselves polled, would wish for less success. But more importantly, the autumn years are good ones infused with energy and joie de vivre. "We used to just sit on the park benches and fall asleep," says Don Dario, the club's only man in the group. "That's a thing of the past." And how does he feel about being the only male? He chuckles self-effacingly. "Well, it used to be that the men were the ones who were always out and about and the women stayed at home. And if we came home late or had to go out of town, the women would get all hot and bothered, figuring we were up to no good. Now the women are out and about, too. I think that's good."

The Seagulls

The young are carving out a niche as well. The community study revealed that children working in nearby slaughterhouses were exposed to dangerous and unhygienic conditions. Hired to wash the internal organs of animal carcasses, they worked late into the night, trying to contribute in a small way to their families' survival.

Social workers wanted this practice stopped. Gathering the young labor force together, they explored alternatives for them to help their families while remaining in school. At first the group, many of whose members had had behavior problems, was called "Marginal Children," then "Children with Difficulties." But as collective self-confidence grew, they rebelled against these labels. "We're not marginalized, and we're not difficult," they protested. They decided to call themselves "The Sea Gulls," "because they go far and so will we."

The Seagulls have chosen to center their microenterprise around environmental and water concerns, and the earnings go to their families. Thanks to a grant from the Fundación Carvajal, they're also getting a good education.

The women provide the life force behind the changes taking place in Versalles. It's not that the men aren't involved. They are. But the women have seized the opportunity for community advancement and growth and in so doing, have forever changed the traditional division of labor that relegated them to the anonymity of the home.

Their daily agenda includes tending to small-livestock raising projects; growing vegetables, ornamental plants, shrubs, and flowers for market day; and making and selling infants' clothing. They also work alongside their male companions in a molasses-producing cooperative, another growth industry.

Has this new public role diminished the machismo streak in their men? No, they reply, laughing and shrugging nonchalantly. "The men still hang on to these ideas, but nowadays we just pay less attention. We've learned how to negotiate and want them to see that macho attitudes don't make sense anymore."

"I used to be afraid to open my mouth," says one female card-carrying member of both the hypertensive and senior citizens groups. "My heart would pound so loudly if I had to talk that it was better to just keep quiet. Now I speak up, even if I don't have the educated words to say it."

Versavisión

The recreational park is the final jewel in Versalles' crown. It came into being following the community study's finding that people had nowhere to go for family sports and relaxation. Its large pool is surrounded by soccer fields, basketball courts, swing-sets, a sand box, and jungle gyms, all clean and freshly painted in bright colors. Being Saturday, this was the place to be.

Soon the streets will empty out and the only sound in town will be the soft hum of synchronized televisions. At 2:30 each Saturday afternoon, Versavisión, the local station, will broadcast a recap of the past week's events around town. Its crew of engineers, producers, and reporters are all self-taught, but what they lack in technical experience is more than compensated for by their savvy in securing an avid viewing audience. Their motto is simple: "show people how they're part of their own development."